Shadows
by redrachxo
Summary: The Grand High Vampire often finds unwanted guests in his private quarters but there's something strange about this particular breather... Future!fic. Prequel to 'Signature'. Hints at an AU 'Darkness is Falling'. Please R&R. xo


_**So basically you have HopeCoppice to blame for me posting this. Self prompt from 'Signature'. Odd but I hope you enjoy it. I have some more AU-DiF related one-shots if anyone is interested?**_

_**Any reviews or feedback are much appreciated.**_

_**xo**_

**Shadows**

The flickering sound of a heart beat in his coffin-room was nothing new to the Grand High Vampire. If it wasn't the Count attempting to lure him back into drinking blood with 'a particularly delectable specimen of womanhood' then it was some vampire groupie –fang bangers, he believed that was the term for them, wishing to offer their throat to the most powerful vampire in the world. Frankly, temptation was the last thing Vlad needed after a long, hard night of paperwork and Council meetings.

Barely managing not to grit his fangs, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed violently it onto a nearby chair. He was getting pretty sick of these constant intrusions into his private space. Was it too much to expect some time to himself? He strode purposefully over to the mini-fridge, grabbing and opening a bottle of soy blood all whilst pointedly ignoring whoever, or whatever, was in his room. He took a large gulp of the nourishing but bland liquid before turning around to face his uninvited guest.

A blonde woman was regarding him carefully from her position sat on top of his coffin, her ankles were crossed primly, steam swirling upwards from the cup grasped in her hand. She was ... different, he would grant her that. Dressed head to toe in steel grey, sensible boots, her hair pulled back severely in a bun, she looked more like she had come to him for slaying practice than a biting. The only splash of colour, the only slightly frivolous thing, about her appearance was the vivid red lipstick coating her lips.

He didn't like the way she was looking at him, as if she was a scientist studying a particularly unpleasant creature, clinical detachment warring with instinctive disgust. And then there was that slightly disdainful curl to her lips as if she had found him in some way wanting.

"Vladimir Dracula, I presume?"

Taking another gulp of his drink, Vlad didn't bother to dignify that with a response. He was tired and weary; it had been a night full of intense discussion and debate. Not helped by Ingrid's scheming with the Barrack clan. Or the newly emerging feud between the Holmwoods and the Owens. All he wanted right now was a few bottles of soy blood, the rest of last night's pizza and his coffin. "Are you meant to be my supper?" He didn't care if his directness was verging on rude, he just wanted to get rid of her, he had given up on trying to be nice to the groupies a few years ago.

A mocking smile curved her mouth upwards. "No." She took a sip from the china cup in her hand. "You really wouldn't like to stick your fangs in me." There was amusement in her lilting voice, a hint that she knew something he didn't and it only served to irritate Vlad even more.

He covered up his annoyance with a low laugh. "Reverse psychology." He lifted his bottle up to her in a parody of a toast. "Well done. Nobody has ever tried that one."

The blonde took another sip from her cup. "So, that's what they mean by the famous Dracula charm." Her tone was equally as cold and as snarky as his.

Vlad threw himself onto his sofa. If she was determined to engage him in conversation then he was going to make himself comfortable. She wasn't his usual type, too severe, too stuffy for starters but he supposed that she was relatively easy on the eye. "OK, what do you want?"

There was a soft clink as she set the cup down onto its matching saucer. He couldn't resist taking a quick sniff of the air to find out exactly what she had been drinking. The mixture of milk and herbs indicated that it was tea. It only added to the bizarre nature of the conversation.

"You really aren't very observant." There was a note of reprove in her voice and for a moment Vlad was reminded of someone from his past, someone who would have given him a similarly stern look for his lack of attention to security. "I'm here to return someone to you." She turned slightly to the shadows, inadvertently exposing her throat to Vlad, the unmarked perfection of her skin causing hunger to swell up inside him, his fangs aching with longing as he fought against the urge to feed.

The shadows stirred, candlelight flickering over dark curly hair, broad shoulders, illuminating a face which had once been so well known to Vlad. It was as if the world froze, everything else blurred and became muted as the vampire stepped out of the darkness and into plain sight. The smell of soy blood filled the air, a soft thud alerting Vlad to the fact he had dropped his bottle and the red liquid was spreading across the floorboards.

"Bertrand?"

The former tutor nodded slowly, uncertainly before glancing back at the blonde as if for reassurance.

Vlad stumbled to his feet, his senses still dulled with the shock of seeing the advisor he had murdered nearly four years ago. "But you're... I..." Words failed him as he stared disbelievingly at the vampire before him. "_How_?"

"We needed an expert on the Chosen One so we resurrected him," the blonde replied in a matter-of-fact voice.

Vlad turned to her with a scowl, he was really beginning to dislike this breather. "You can't just resurrect the undead!"

The blonde carefully balanced her cup and saucer down on the lid of Vlad's coffin. "Clearly, we disagree." She jumped down, landing lightly on her feet, a signal that the conversation in her opinion was drawing to a close.

"We?" Vlad demanded weakly. He found he could barely look at the vampire in front of him. All he could think of was how it felt to have someone crumble into ash in your arms, of how his tutor had been so right about Malik and the shapeshifter, of how he had mistreated and abused his tutor for months before that fateful night. The guilt was choking him, confusion and relief battling with suspicion at this sudden turn of events.

Bertrand moved hesitantly towards his ruler. There was a wariness about him that made Vlad's chest ache with emotion; he had done that to the older vampire, he had damaged their relationship beyond repair even before he had driven that stake into the tutor's unbeating heart.

"Vlad." Bertrand's voice was still soft, still carried that trace of an indefinable accent, his hand, reassuring in its solid weight and coldness came to rest on the Grand High Vampire's shoulder.

Vlad looked up into the bright blue of Bertrand's eyes and suddenly, for a brief moment, felt like everything was going to be ok. His tutor, no his _friend_, was back and right now that was all that mattered.


End file.
